A Change
by kaiyn
Summary: Sam decides to let Dean have his "normal" life, and undergoes a change in appearance. This was supposed to be a one shot, but gained a life of its' own.
1. Chapter 1

Sam stood under the streetlight and watched Dean with Lisa and Ben. It almost felt wrong, checking up on Dean like this, when it had been the other way around for so long. Sam stood there for long after the lights had gone out, torn between wanting _his_ Dean back and letting Dean have the peace he so deserved. In the end, Sam faded back into the shadows, ultimately leaving Dean to his new life.

Sam knew that he had to change his appearance now. Even though the apocalypse was over, and he had sacrificed himself to end it, he felt sure that some hunters would likely try to kill him on sight, just for what he had done. His first task was buying a set of electric clippers. After settling on a set, he took them back to the motel room he currently called home.

As he was reading the instructions, he could almost hear Dean bitching about how prissy he was being, and smiled. Switching the clippers on, Sam hesitated for just a moment before touching them to his head. He watched in the mirror as hair fell onto his shoulders and into the sink, never once stopping until the clippers clogged with hair. After cleaning them, he ran his hand over his head, feeling the strangeness of it.

When he was done, he looked down at the mound of hair in the sink and let out a snort. That looked like a ton of hair. No wonder Dean used to call him a girl. Grimacing a little at the memory, Sam looked into the mirror. This would take some getting used to.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own. There is some blood and swearing.

-2-

Six months later found Sam under the streetlight again, checking up on Dean. He could see Dean and Ben sitting outside at a picnic table. Ben was apparently pointing out the constellations to Dean, who seemed to be content to let him, even though he had learned them long ago. Watching Ben point to different locations in the sky, Sam ran his hand over his mouth, scraggly beard scraping his palm. Believing that everything was peaceful and quiet, Sam faded back into the shadows again.

For two years, Sam went where he found hunts, doing his best to avoid both Cicero, South Dakota, fearing he might be recognized and only having one close call. Even with his somewhat altered appearance, he never quite felt comfortable in any one place. Two years, three months, and seventeen days after checking in on Dean, he came uncomfortably close to running into him after a hunt.

He was in the ass end of nowhere, Washington hunting an ajatar. The damn thing had somehow managed to bite him, and now he felt like ass. Making a quick job of burning the corpse, Sam climbed in his truck and made his way back to the motel, vowing to clean up all the goo later. However, by the time he pulled into the lot, he was shivering, clammy, and seeing double, both from blood loss and the bite. He was so determined to make it into the room that he almost missed it.

Light headed or not, Sam froze and developed an acute case of tunnel vision when he saw a very familiar car parked in front of room 5. Swaying just a little, he cautiously made his way over to the car, sucking in a breath when he could see the initials carved into the dash. His heart started pounding, and all he thought was that Dean could not be here, he was not _supposed_ to be here. He should be in Cicero, with Lisa and Ben. Quickly and quietly, he started to stagger towards his room, fumbling for the key in his pocket. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stumbled into the wall, blood slowly dripping down his arm and from his fingertips.

He continued to put one foot in front of the other, using the wall for support, and had almost made it when he heard the door to room 5 open, and a smattering of conversation spilled out into the night. Oh fuck, that sounded like Bobby. Finally making it to the door, Sam stuck the key into the lock and turned, stumbling into the room without an ounce of grace. He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, listening to the muffled voices and footsteps outside. Letting out a breath that he did not know he was holding, he stepped towards the small table and a duffel bag. Gingerly sitting down on the rickety chair, he rummaged through the duffel, withdrawing everything he would need from its' contents.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled his jacket off and examined the bite that the ajatar had left on his forearm. What he could see of the edges was an angry red, and it was starting to swell. First, he needed to stop the bleeding. Picking up a few things from the table, along with a bottle of whiskey, he stood and walked to the bathroom. Setting the first aid kit, a knife, and a lighter on the sink, he opened the bottle of liquor and drank a liberal mouthful before holding his arm over the sink and pouring some over his wound. He let out a soft grunt at the burn, waiting until the stinging stopped before picking up the knife and lighter. Flicking the lighter open, he held the blade over the flame until he judged it was hot enough. Bracing himself, he pressed the blade to the bite, cauterizing the punctures. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he involuntarily groaned.

The smell nearly made him gag, but the wave of memories that accompanied it was worse. Forcing the memory of burning hair and skin back, Sam finished was he was doing and bandaged his arm up. Knowing he was in for a rough night, he popped a couple of painkillers and an antibiotic to be safe. The bite of an ajatar usually carried an illness with it, and he would feel like crap for a day or so, but it would not kill him. He settled himself into one of the beds and closed his eyes just for a few minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delay in posting! I had a small bit of writer's block, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it's gone and will stay gone!

-3-

Sam dreamed, and he dreamed of fire, of white-hot flames burning him from the inside, and razors of arctic cold searing him from the outside in. The more he thrashed, the more the razors dug in. Slowly his dream shifted to a time he didn't want to remember; when Lucifer wore him as a meatsuit. Locked in his own mind, he relived every moment. He screamed in horror when he felt his fists –_his_- fists, pummel Dean. He felt Deans' nose break under the onslaught, felt what could only have been the crunch of bone. He screamed for Dean to run, but of course, Dean couldn't hear him.

The dream shifted, and he was back in Hell, with Lucifer. Agony coursed through his body as Lucifer used him as his own personal playground. Sam could feel his hand somewhere it was not supposed to be, and Oh God_, those were not supposed to be on the outside_. All the while, he whispered in Sams' ear all the things that he wanted to do to _Dean_, complete with demonstration.

Sam woke mid-scream. Panting for air, his teeth chattering, he listened to his heart pound for a few moments before realizing he wasn't hearing his heart. Blearily looking at the door, he swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand, only to sit back down when the room started to swim. Feeling like he was going to hurl, he gulped a few mouthfuls of air to steady himself, and then tried again. On wobbly legs, he made his way to the door and opened it a crack, squinting at the harsh morning light.

Once his eyes had adjusted, he saw the manager standing there, nervously looking around and licking his lips. On seeing Sam standing there, he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm g-going to have to ask you to leave. Some of the other, uh, guests are complaining about the, uh, the noise."

Sam's voice was gravelly when he spoke. "Alright, ten minutes and I'm out."

The manager nodded and walked away quickly, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly like he expected Sam to bite.

Shaking his head slightly, Sam closed the door and went to pack up what little he had taken out of his duffel. While gathering the first aid supplies from the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "Jesus, I look like shit." His eyes were glassy, and his face pale. His hair, which he had let grow back out, clung to his neck, and his beard glistened with sweat.

Again, a dizzy spell hit him, and he braced himself against the sink, willing it to pass. As soon as it did, he was moving again. He pulled a fresh, well, _fresher_, set of clothes out of the duffel, quickly changed, and crammed everything back into his duffel. He opened the door to the sound of vehicles pulling into the lot and he instinctively looked, stiffening imperceptibly when he saw the Impala. Dean. He continued the walk to his truck, making it halfway before a coughing spell hit and he got light-headed.

AN: This seemed like a good place to cut it off. I'm hopeful that I'll have the next part up within a couple of days. Still working on it, but I think it's coming along pretty well.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Sorry this part took so long. The next part is already well underway, and I can promise you Dean. :) Again, this is unbeta'd, and all mistakes are mine. Thank you for the reviews!_

-4-

Bobby was following Dean back to the motel from the diner, the griping he had had to endure still ringing in his ears. Damn fool idjit shouldn't even _be_ here, had promised his brother, and he wanted to bitch because some other hunter got the the ajatar before he did. When Dean had showed up on his doorstep, he had tried to ask him why the hell he wasn't in Cicero. Dean had gotten that stubborn mule look that seemed to plague the Winchester line. Only invoking his promise to Sam had gotten the boy to budge, and his answer…well, his answer had shut Bobby right up.

"I couldn't do it anymore, Bobby."

That conversation had been two months ago, and they had both been trying to find a way to spring Sam from the cage, without releasing Lucifer, ever since. Bobby thought about the lack of success and frowned, knowing they were running out of options. God forbid he tell Dean that though. Actually, he had tried, and Dean had not taken it well. He'd sworn that he would throw himself into the pit before he'd give up.

Damn Winchesters.

Pulling into a space next to the Impala, Bobby glanced in his rearview and saw some guy who looked like someone had wiped the floor with him. Bobby watched him walk, unable to shake the feeling that he should know him. Bobby watched him for a minute. The guy seemed familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Bobby turned the keys, shutting the car off, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice came from the seat next to him.

"Bobby."

"Damn it, don't do that!"

"I am sorry I startled you Bobby, but I have information for Dean."

Bobby gestured to the room that Dean had gone into and started walking again. "Then why are you talking to me? He's in there."

"He was displeased to see me last time. This is something you should know as well."

Bobby narrowed his eyes.

"Sam is not in the cage."

Those were the last words Bobby expected to hear. His mouth hung open in surprise for a second before he came around.

"WHAT?"

"Sam is not in the cage. He escaped, though no one can tell us how."

Bobby's voice was shaky when he dropped it to a whisper. "How long?"

"Two years. Of that much we are certain."

Bobby's mouth opened and closed for a few times while he tried to process this information. It would have looked comical if his face hadn't started to turn red from anger at the same time. Cas chose that moment to continue.

"We have not been able to pinpoint his exact location, but we believe he may be in the area."

Bobby sighed and wiped his hand over his face. "Alright. Let's go talk to Dean."

Castiel blinked out of sight, and Bobby could hear Dean swearing a blue streak a second later. As Bobby got out of the car, he heard a harsh barking cough start up from the direction of the man he'd seen not five minutes earlier. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the color in the man's' face change to a sickly gray.

"Damned if he don't look familiar," Bobby thought to himself an instant before it clicked in his mind who he was seeing. For the second time that day, Bobby's mouth gaped open like a fish. Dimly, he heard the sound of Dean and Cas arguing, but his feet were already carrying him in Sam's direction. As he moved in that direction, he saw Sam sway and then fall to his knees. Bobby made his feet carry him faster towards Sam, eventually breaking into a jog.

As he got closer, he could hear Sam gasping for air between fits. When Bobby reached him, he couldn't stop himself from saying "Sam?" He could hear the tremble in his voice when he spoke. Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he was startled when Sam flinched. He heard himself saying "Easy, boy" in as even a voice as he could manage, almost as if he was talking to a dog that was prone to bite.

"C'mon kid, just relax and breathe."

Slowly color started to return to Sam's face as the coughing passed and he began to breathe easier. Bobby never once took his hand from Sam's shoulder, and could feel the heat rising through his shirt. He looked closer at Sam's bearded face, committing again to memory a face that he knew so well, and seeing only Sam in it, not Lucifer. Sam's eyes were glassy, and he didn't seem to see him. His eyes were focused somewhere over Bobby's shoulder.

Shaking his head, he started to look Sam over, still struggling to believe it was him. His gaze fell upon Sam's left arm, which looked strangely swollen under the sleeve of his jacket. Gently pushing up the sleeve, Bobby winced when he saw his arm. There was a bandage in place, but there were red streaks extending out from underneath it, almost as if they were crawling up Sam's arm. Bobby gingerly pressed on it and received a howl of agony from Sam, followed by a punch in the jaw. Besieged by Sam's suddenly flailing limbs, Bobby swore loudly and tried to grab hold of Sam's arms.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Sorry this took so long. The muse didn't really want to cooperate when it came to writing Dean, plus life has been pretty hectic. Only warning for this chapter is language, and a bit of violence. As always, all mistakes are mine._

-5-

Dean had heard the howl and assumed the worst. He came out of the room, Castiel not far behind him, eyes automatically going to the figure of Bobby. He saw the guy punch Bobby in the jaw, and that was all it took for anger to explode behind his eyes. After the news that he had just gotten from Cas, he _really_ needed to hit something. It didn't register to him that Bobby was merely trying to calm the other man down, or that he wasn't fighting back. At that moment, Dean was a being of action, not of thought.

Crossing the lot at a run, he was on them before anyone could stop him. Again, without thinking, he pulled the guy up from where he had been kneeling on the ground and let the first punch fly. The punch sent the man sprawling to the ground on his back. He didn't get up, but that didn't matter to Dean, who stepped towards him with the intention to haul his ass back up. Someone grabbing the collar of his jacket and jerking him backwards brought his forward momentum to a sudden halt. Furious, he spun around to see Bobby.

"What the hell, Bobby?"

"Not out here, boy! You want the cops involved in this?"

Dean shook his head, but stopped trying to get past Bobby.

"Good. Now help me get him inside. No arguments, just do it."

Dean complied, shooting suspicious glances at Cas, who was following with a frown, and at Bobby. Dean helped Bobby pick the guy up, and with one arm wrapped around each of their shoulders, started carrying him to the room. It wasn't easy going; the man was dead weight, and so damn tall that his feet dragged on the ground. Dean sucked in a breath, thinking of Sam. He was going to _kill_ Sam when he saw him. Maneuvering him into the room and onto one of the beds wasn't easy either, but once it was done, Dean rounded on Bobby, his upper lip curling.

"Mind sharing with the class, Bobby? Maybe you can start with why the hell we just dragged this guy's sorry ass in here!"

Bobby steadily looked at Dean, noting the tense set of his shoulders, and the fierce look of anger on his face. He sighed and wiped his hand over his face, then looked back at Dean, making eye contact. Evenly, he said, "Take a real good look at him, Dean."

"Oh no, you're going to expl-" was all that came out of Dean's mouth before he was interrupted by Bobby.

"Boy, I ain't about to stand here and argue with you until the cows come home. Now you can do what I told you to do, or by God, I will whip your ass. Don't have time for games."

Dean took a step back, looking at Bobby's scowling face with confusion. Okay then, he meant business. Biting back any retort, Dean finally did as he was told, ignoring the muttering that came from Bobby's direction, but smirking just a little when he heard "Damn Winchesters." Rolling his eyes, Dean fully turned his attention to the man on the bed. He had no idea what he was looking for.

Dean looked over him quickly, sizing him up. He was gaunt, but obviously all muscle. Explained why he was so heavy, anyway. A beard obscured most of the features of his face, his hair was pretty shaggy, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He was sweaty, kind of smelly actually, and white as a sheet, aside from small splotches of color in his cheeks. Dean guessed it must be from a fever; he had felt the heat rising off him when they carried him inside. Dude felt like a furnace.

Dean ran his eyes further down the man's form. Spotting a knife in his boot, he removed it just in case.

"Jesus, didn't you even check him?" Dean said hotly, turning his head towards Bobby, disapproval clear in his face.

Dean snorted and turned back to his self-appointed task of searching the man for weapons. He quickly patted down the areas he could get to, pausing when he felt a cord around the man's' neck. He was seconds from pulling on the cord to see what sort of charm or amulet was on it when a hand grabbed his arm. He glanced at the mans' face and saw that his eyes were open, and he was very much awake. They made eye contact, and Dean felt the world drop away when he realized who those eyes belonged to.

His mouth dropped open, and a wave of vertigo hit him as he looked into a pair of eyes that he had not seen in almost three years. They were glassy, dull with fever and pain. His heart began to race as if he had been running a marathon, but he was still unprepared for the stab of pain and hurt he felt at seeing those eyes look both at him and through him at the same time. There was something shuttered behind those eyes, and they looked at him with recognition, and a huge amount of hostility. He wasn't even aware that he had spoken until the sound startled him.

"Sammy?"


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Once again, sorry this took so long, and doubly sorry that this chapter is so short. I put it down for a little while, and when I came back to it, I ended up rewriting this chapter twice because I just was not happy with what I had. Only warning for this chapter is some mild violence. All mistakes are mine. Thank you guys for the kind words. :)_

Sam stared up with hate at the familiar shape that hovered above him. His fevered mind whispered to him that he was in Hell, and that the taunting had begun again. He could dimly feel a throbbing pain in his arm, but chose to ignore it in favor of speaking. His voice was gravelly, and not much more than a whisper, but every word cut cleanly through the air.

"Don't you dare look like him. So help me, I will tear you apart."

Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth in understanding. Sam thought he was in Hell. Dean resisted the urge to cry, and pushed down hard on his own memories. Still, he couldn't stop his voice from cracking.

"Sammy, it's me. You're safe."

Apparently, it had been the wrong thing to say. Sam's' face twisted in utter fury, and his grip on Dean's arm tightened. When he tried to get up, Dean instinctively pushed him back down. At that, there was no keeping Sam prone on the bed. Roughly shoved back, Dean stumbled backwards into Bobby. Sam got to his feet rather quickly for a very sick man, still standing by the bed, but with his back to the corner. Dean held out his hands, palms out and slowly moving forward, trying to calm his brother.

"Easy, tiger. No one here is gonna hurt you. Just calm down, okay?"

Sam glared warily at what he thought was a thing wearing his brothers' face, then lunged, drawing his arm back to take a swing. Dean was prepared and grabbed Sam's arm, ignoring the howl of pain, and used his shoulder to drive Sam back against the wall. He grappled with him for a moment, and then succeeded in pinning Sam against the wall. Sam struggled, and spat curses at him. He brought his knee up, catching Dean in the stomach.

Dean grunted in pain, but kept his hold on Sam, moving his arm up and bringing it to bear against Sam's throat. Sam started clawing at Dean's arm, grinding out the word "No." repeatedly, not even noticing that Dean had started silently crying. Sam's struggles slowly weakened until he finally fell into unconsciousness. Dean kept his arm there for a few heartbeats, making sure Sam was truly out cold, and then checking to make sure that he hadn't actually choked the life out of his brother. He closed his eyes and stood there for a moment, supported his limp but miraculously _alive_ brother.

He heard Bobby behind him, voice hushed.

"Let me help you, boy."

And if his voice wavered at all, both Dean and Cas chose not to comment. Dean shook his head, pulling himself together before speaking.

"No, I've got him."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N Sorry this has taken so long to post. Life got crazy and school kept me busier than I had thought it would. _

-7-

As gently as he could, Dean got Sam onto the bed, flat on his back. He held a hand to Sam's' sweaty brow, frowning at his too warm skin. Anger at Sam started to rise again, and Dean stamped it down. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to take care of his brother. He never once considered having Cas use his angel mojo. It was too easy, he couldn't depend on Cas all the time, and some part of him craved the contact that caring for Sam the hard way would bring.

He couldn't reconcile the face he was staring at with the one he had last seen at Stull. This face was gaunt, even without the look of illness, bearded where that face had been smooth. This face looked hard in a way that was familiar, but that Dean couldn't quite pin down. After a few minutes, the answer hit Dean. Sam looked like their father used to. Grim, hard determination, even while unconscious.

Dean would bet that Sam had even started grinding his teeth in his sleep, just like the father he had fought with so often. Shaking his head to clear it, Dean got up and started unlacing Sam's boots, pulling them off. He was in the process of removing his socks when the door opened, and in came Bobby and Cas, each of them carrying bags of ice. Dean mentally berated himself for not realizing that they had gone.

"Don't beat yourself up, kid. You got other things on yer mind." Bobby said simply. Dean nodded.

"I'll get his arm patched up best I can, then we'll get him in the tub. That fever needs to come down. Go get the tub ready." At the look on Dean's face, he added, "I'll wait until you get back before I do anything."

Dean slid off the bed, allowing Bobby to take his place for the moment, and went into the bathroom, flicking on the light. He snorted when he caught sight of the tub. There was no way that Sam was going to fit comfortably in that thing, but they'd have to make do. Dean made quick work of the ice bath, and then went back into the other room, where Bobby was waiting. He took a place on the other side of the bed. Under Dean's watchful eyes, Bobby slowly peeled the bandage back from Sam's arm, wrinkling his nose at the putrid smell that came from the wound. Sam didn't smell so pretty either, but that was a helluva lot better than this.

Dean hissed through his teeth when he saw the marks. It looked as if he had tried to cauterize them, but they were still red and inflamed, with pus seeping from around the edges of the scabs. Red streaks extended up from the site almost to his elbow.

"Shit Bobby, we need to take him to a hospital!" Dean blurted.

"And tell them what exactly? That yer brother got himself bit by a supernatural beastie? Get yer head straight! It looks bad, but we can handle this. As long as we don't stand here twiddling our thumbs!"

Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"You're right, Bobby."

He snapped his head up and looked at Cas, only to find the angel staring back at him, wearing one of those damn placid expressions that he hated so much. Sighing, he tossed the keys to the Impala at him. Cas deftly caught them, then cocked his head slightly. Damn if Dean didn't hate _that_ look too.

"Need you to get the first aid kit out of the trunk, and my duffle too. Please?"

Dean hated the pleading sound his voice carried at that last word.

"As you wish, Dean."

Dean caught a glimpse of a smirk on Cas' face and chuckled, feeling the tension in his body lessen a bit.

"Never should have let him watch that," Dean remarked.

A slap to the back of the head abruptly brought his attention back to Bobby.

"If yer done, _lover boy_," Bobby said, voice oozing with sarcasm, "Maybe you can help me with this."

"Hey! Who're you calling –"

"Shuddup and hold your brother down."

Dean blushed a little, but still snapped out a "Yes, sir."

Bobby sighed and shook his head. "Damn idjit."

Dean smiled grimly, then took his position once more by the bed. Cas came back in, closing the door behind him and setting the first aid kit on the table, dropping the duffle by the bed, and then tossing the keys back to Dean. Dean caught them smoothing, slid them into his pocket, and by reflex caught the next thing that Cas tossed at him. He looked at them in confusion, then glanced up at Cas.

"Handcuffs?"

Cas met Dean's grim stare with one of his own.

"You may need those. This will not be pleasant for Sam."

Dean paled, swallowed the lump in his throat, and took a breath, bending over to first snap one cuff around Sam's uninjured wrist and the other around the bedpost. He paused, whispering an apology in Sam's ear, then took his belt off, sliding it between Sam's lips and teeth, using it as a makeshift gag. Bobby nodded in approval, then looked at Cas.

"Hold his legs?"

Cas hesitated for only a second, and then wrapped his hands around Sam's ankle, pressing them firmly against the bed. Bobby turned to the table and opened the duffel bag, rummaging around for a second before pulling a knife and a bottle of holy water out and bringing them to the bed with him. Unscrewing the cap on the holy water, he first poured some over the blade of the knife, then onto Sam's arm, murmuring a blessing. The holy water bubbled and foamed up on the wound like peroxide, and Sam let out a small groan.

Bobby stopped for a second, waiting to see if Sam would wake. He didn't, and Bobby let out a breath he had no idea he had been holding. He awkwardly patted Sam's leg, muttered, "I'm sorry, boy," and drew the knife over the scabs, slicing them open. At that, Sam's eyes flew open and his body bucked upwards against the hands holding him down. His eyes rolled around in their sockets, like a horse that had caught wind of something it didn't like. He tried to yank his left arm up to lash out at them, but Dean forced it back down.

Sam bellowed, the sound muffled by the makeshift gag. He tried to use his tongue to push the gag out, but it wouldn't budge. Bobby methodically sliced each scab open, and then set to the task of cleaning them out. First clearing what pus he could, then squeezing until a sickly green fluid that must have been venom came trickling out, then rinsing them out with holy water.

Sam continued to thrash, his agonized howls rising until the gag barely muffled them, and until he finally passed out from the pain. They all let out a sigh of relief when Sam finally passed out, and chose to ignore the tears that had started dripping down Dean's face at some point. Bobby kept up the process, until the holy water no longer bubbled and only blood oozed out.

Standing up straight and stretching with a groan, Bobby went to the first aid kit, pulling out gauze, antibiotic cream, and tape, then moving back to the bed. He efficiently got Sam's arm bandaged and taped, then wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

"Let's get him into the tub. Feels like the fever might be down, but it ain't gonna hurt to get him in there anyway."

Bobby and Cas busied themselves getting the tub ready, and Dean tried not to think of the pain Sam had endured. He stripped Sam down to his boxers, inwardly wincing at the sight of new scars, some old, and some barely healed. Once the tub was ready, Dean and Cas got Sam into the bathroom and slowly lowered him into the icy water, making sure to leave his one arm out. At the first touch of the water, Sam moaned but blessedly did not regain consciousness.

Bobby offered to stay in there, but Dean tiredly waved him away. Both of them left under the pretense of getting food and more supplies, leaving Dean alone. Unwilling to stray far from Sam, he settle down on the floor next to the tub, resting his head on his knees. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes later when Sam started to whimper softly. Dean's head snapped up and his gaze automatically locked on his brother. Sam was shivering, his fever flushed skin now pale.

Dean reached over and placed his head on Sam's forehead. It felt like the fever had gone down enough to pull him out of the tub. Dean pulled his hand back, only to stop when Sam made another noise, this one more of a guttural whine. Dean put his hand back where it had been, brushing Sam's hair back and remembering all the times that he had made this same gesture when Sam was a kid. The words came out of his mouth just as easily now as they had then, and were no less true.

"It's okay Sammy. I'm here."

Sam visibly relaxed, the whine dying out in his throat. Dean smiled, and started to chuckle, cutting if off abruptly when it came out sounding more like a sob. Despite everything that had happened, he still couldn't quite believe that his bitchy little brother was alive, had been alive for _two years_, and _hadn't told him_. He was definitely going to give him hell – Dean cut that thought right off and mentally corrected himself. He was going to give Sam a lot of crap when he was better, and maybe a good punch or two to boot.

Dean let Sam soak for a little longer, then pulled him out and got him settled into one of the beds, just in time for Bobby to come back, bearing a few bags of what smelled like burgers. Bobby nodded at Dean and tossed one of the bags at him.

"He come 'round yet?"

Dean shook his head and set the bag on the nightstand, busying himself with checking Sam's bandage.

"Boy, I know yer worried about him, but it ain't gonna kill you to eat something. Get some rest while yer at it. You look like road kill." Dean opened his mouth to protest but was unable to get very far. Bobby gave him the stink-eye and said, "Shut up and eat."

Dean decided he didn't really feel like arguing with the older man and gave in. Bobby eyed Dean for a few minutes then turned his attention to his own burger. For a little while neither of them spoke, there was nothing but the sound of chewing, and underneath that, the sound of Sam breathing.

"We'll take shifts, and I'll take the first one while you get some shut eye. No arguments, you got that?"

Dean swallowed his words along with his food.

"Yes sir."

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes but he still furtively watched the elder Winchester, even as he made a show of getting settled on the other bed. Bobby knew damn well that Dean wouldn't sleep well if at all, but he had to try. Dean felt the eyes of the other hunter on him as he stretched out on his back. He knew that it was just concern and affection on the other mans' part; knew that Bobby was just as worried and upset as he was, but that didn't help quell the resentment much. Dean closed his eyes only to open them a second later to look at Bobby.

"Hey, where's Cas?"

"He's trying to find out how Sam got sprung from the cage. He'll check in if and when he finds out anything, now get some sleep."

Dean closed his eyes with a sigh of annoyance, all the while not even remotely intending to sleep. He started running through the lyrics to "And Justice for All" for the third time when he finally fell asleep.


End file.
